


Breakfast & Bed

by leiascully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Breakfast, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Time, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: Mulder cooks breakfast for Scully after their first night together.





	Breakfast & Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: S7  
> A/N: An enjoyable followup on a headcanon conversation with frangipanidownunder.  
> Disclaimer: No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Scully woke up and the other side of the bed was empty. She smoothed down her hair, found her underwear, and dug around in Mulder’s drawers until she found the shirt she wanted. She briefly considered putting on his Yankees jersey, but decided to save it for a special occasion, but he had an Oxford shirt that was worn and soft and it made her tits look really good. She followed the clattering noises out to what he laughingly called a kitchen. She expected a smirk, but when he saw her, he grinned like he just couldn’t help himself, his whole face bright.

“I know you like your eggs sunny side up, but over easy is the best I can do,” he told her. His chest and feet were bare, but his silky pajama bottoms clung in interesting places. She let him see her giving him the once-over, but the smugness she’d imagined still wasn’t there. “I have bacon, but there are some of those vegetarian sausages you’re into in the freezer. You look good in that shirt, by the way.”

She looked between the ice trays and an ancient bag of frozen peas. Just to be safe, she checked the expiration date, but they were still good. “Mulder, when did you buy these?”

“A few months ago,” he said casually. “When I saw you order them at that diner in Milwaukee. Just in case you were ever here for breakfast for some reason. Or if you wanted something to eat.”

She picked up the bag of bread from the counter and put two slices in the toaster, and then leaned against the counter and watched him cook. He kept sneaking glances at her and smiling to himself.

“Last night was good for you?” he said.

“You know it was,” she told him. “You made quite sure of that. Multiple times.”

“After seven years of foreplay, I couldn’t just make you come once,” he teased. 

“Was it good for you?” she joked back.

He turned toward her, spatula in his hand. “It was the best night of my life,” he said seriously, focusing all his attention on her in that way he had that made every nerve in her body tingle. The effect was even more acute now that she knew he could make good on all those offhand promises over the years. When Mulder looked at her like that, she forgot everything else in the world. 

“The eggs,” she said weakly. He smiled and turned them gently. One of the yolks broke. 

“That one’s mine,” he said. Something about the morning light made him look like a cloud had passed, leaving everything about him brighter. She had done that. They had done it together. She too felt lighter, brighter, purer somehow, despite the sweat still on her skin. 

“It was the best night of my life, too,” she said quietly. The toast popped up and she reached into the fridge. Of course he had margarine. It was easier than butter. There were crumbs in it, but otherwise, it seemed all right. She stepped around him to get a knife out of his silverware drawer. He leaned back gently against her and slid the eggs onto two waiting plates. 

“Did you want those sausages?” God, he made vegetarian sausages sound like an erotic experience when he used that low voice.

“Eggs and toast is fine,” she said. He turned off the stove and looked down at her. His mouth kept tugging up at the corners. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. He waited for her to draw his head down to kiss her, his mouth parting delicately against hers like she was some fragile precious thing. 

“I have to tell you something,” he whispered against her lips.

“Hmm,” she said, her body tensing slightly.

“I made coffee,” he said, and the percolator rattled behind him in affirmation.

She burst out laughing. “Oh God, I love you,” she said, chuckling. 

“You love me.” He grinned.

“My testimony was coerced,” she said. “You can’t set a girl up like that before she’s caffeinated.”

She had thought his smile couldn’t be sunnier. She was wrong. He was positively beaming. “You love me,” he said.

“Only once I’ve got this promised coffee in hand,” she told him. He reached into the cabinet for a mug and filled it just to where she liked. Years of restaurants and bless him, he’d been paying attention. He pressed it carefully into her hands.

“Now you love me,” he said. 

“Now I do,” she agreed.

“Good,” he said. “Because I love you, coffee or no coffee, as it turns out. I know you’re a scientist, so I made sure to control for that variable, and it turns out it has no effect on my, uh....”

“Overwhelming passion?” she suggested.

“Something like that,” he said. “I was going to go with all-consuming ardor, but the alliteration was a little much for this early.”

She sipped at her coffee, getting more steam than liquid. “Is this where I say something about a beautiful friendship?”

“This is where we either eat our eggs and toast or go back to bed,” he suggested.

She set down her mug deliberately. “You know, I’m not that hungry yet.” She held out her hand. He laced his fingers between hers and it felt like a wedding vow. She lead him down the hall and shut the bedroom door behind them.


End file.
